Just then Amy felt something fall in her wet hair. She slapped a hand on her head, then frowned. There was nothing there. Then something flicked on her bodice. She looked down, but still saw nothing.
She swiped at her hair and dress, wondering if there could be bugs on her from the cave. She took one last swipe then looked up at the men.
Calum held his hand out in front of him, palm side up. He was watching water drip into it.
Meanwhile, Eachann stared up at the ceiling with a perfectly stunned look. “Dammit to hell! I’m going to wring her blue-blooded neck!”
A second later he was gone, leaving Calum and Amy staring up at the ceiling where a growing stain of water dripped and plopped all over them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Some kiss hot
Some kiss cold,
Some don’t kiss at all,
Until they’re told.
—Anonymous
The oaf opened the door. Georgina was waiting. She smacked him hard in the face with a sopping wet towel. The water rushed out the door, and so did she.
She ran down the hall, where the water was seeping out behind her; it hid her wet footprints. She passed three doors and went around a small turn, ran down another hallway and another short turn. She jerked open the first door and disappeared inside.
The room was huge and dimly lit by smoldering logs in a fireplace big enough to stand in. Unfortunately, she couldn’t hide in it. She knew she had only a few minutes.
He would have to check the rooms she’d passed; that gave her time. She scanned the bedroom quickly, listening with half an ear for Eachann MacLachlan’s footsteps.
There were two doors across from a massive dark carved wooden bed. She went for the door farthest from the entry. Inside was a long tunnel-like closet with a mishmash of men’s clothing hung along a big wooden clothing rod. Boots and leather shoes were strewn all over the floor along with a saddle, a couple of crops, and some things that were completely unidentifiable.
She closed the door and moved deeper into the dark closet. It was like walking through a train wreck. She stepped on a spur with her bare foot and stumbled. She bit back an oath and grabbed a handful of clothes to keep from falling.
Her shoulder hit the wall with a thud.
Oh God... what if he’d heard her?
She swiftly and quietly moved into the depths of the closet, picking her way through while her heart thudded in her ears. She edged between two camel-backed trunks and felt the sweep of silk and woolen dresses that were hung on the back section of the rod. She dug around behind them, hoping for a cabinet or storage nook. But there was nothing but wall.
There had to be some place in here to hide, some place where he couldn’t find her by just pushing aside the clothes. She reached out, feeling her way in the dark and trying to keep from stumbling again over what she couldn’t see.
Her hand hit the end wall. The closet was a dead end.
She turned and made her way through the mess again.
There was a noise, as if a nearby door had just closed. Her breath stopped.
Hide! Quickly!
The trunks were too obvious. Panicking, she looked up, shoved some dresses together, and grabbed the wooden rod.
A couple of minutes later she was standing on the wooden rod, her damp skirt wrung out and tucked up tightly between her legs. She had her hands braced on the ceiling.
The door opened. He moved inside slowly. His head first.
She felt like a moron. Why hadn’t she grabbed something to hit him with? There was enough litter and junk lying all over the floor. She let her angst go because it was too late now.
Instead she concentrated on being quiet. Quiet as a mouse. She held her breath inside her chest so long that she was almost afraid that exhaling would give her away. She watched his every movement, even grew irritated that his breathing looked easy. Not tense like hers.
